From the dark dell’s entangled steeps,
Fringing the forests devious edge,
Half-robed, appears the privet hedge,
Or to the distant eye displays,
Weakly green, its budding sprays.”
An ancient writer beautifully describes one of those bright, transient showers which prevail at this season.
Away to that sunny nook, for the thick shower
Rushes on strikingly: ay, now it comes,
Glancing about the leaves with its first dips,
Like snatches of faint music. Joyous bird,